Random Quote Wednesday

"I had discovered that writing--with whatever instrument--was a powerful aid to thinking, and thinking was what I now resolved to do. You can think without writing, of course, as most people do and have done throughout history, but if you can condense today's thought into a few symbols preserved on a surface of some kind--paper or silicon--you don't have to rethink it tomorrow."

~~Barbara Ehrenreich

~~Living With a Wild God: A Nonbeliever's Search for the Truth About Everything

Masked Mom's Media Monday: Lynn Anderson

For everyone who wondered but didn't ask: That middle-aged woman you saw sitting in the silver van in the grocery store parking lot with the windows up and the engine running for ten minutes belting out "(I Never Promised You A) Rose Garden" on repeat was totally me. 

When I heard over the weekend that Lynn Anderson had passed away last week at the age of 67, I rifled through all my mixed CD's until I found the one with her signature song on. Sure, it wasn't quite the same as hearing it on the scratchy vinyl of the K-tel Country Superstars* album on the stereo my sister and I got for Christmas in 1979, but it was pretty awesome all the same. The baffled looks on passersby? Added bonus. 

Rest in peace, Ms. Anderson.



Masked Mom's One-Word Review: Nostalgic. 

*Seriously? Check out that tracklist. Who even knew you could squeeze so much cheesy goodness into 12-inches of vinyl? I did, that's who. I have this album in a milk crate full of other cheesy goodness in my bedroom right now.

Spiral Notebook Sunday: Sunday, November 2, 2014

Today's unedited excerpt from my Spiral Notebook Journal features me lecturing myself about that thing I always lecture myself about most: writing. Or not writing, as the case may be. 

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Sunday, November 2, 2014

Considering how often I disappoint myself, it's amazing I am not entirely immune to my own disappointment in myself at this point. Though I suppose if I were really susceptible to my disappointment, I might endeavor to disappoint myself at least a little less often.

I meant to write today--a lot and much earlier in the day than 9:15 p.m., which it is now. I also meant to write yesterday and the day before and pretty much every day last week and for that matter every day since the last time I wrote. But I allowed myself to get distracted--and not even really all that distracted, honestly, because no matter what else I'm doing (in this case, DVR clearing and Q*bert playing and squeezing in a movie with Hubby, which I couldn't have cared less about--some X-men sequel or prequel or presequel or some damned thing), all I'm really thinking about is how I should be writing.

More disappointment still--now that I finally forced myself to pick up the pen, I'm spending what little time and energy I have to talk about how I should've been here sooner.

Has Anyone Seen My Wagon?

...I seem to have fallen off of it and the bloggy wagon has rumbled along without me, as it always does. 

As always, I miss blogging more than it misses me and find myself sprinting to catch up. 

I could blame my long absence on all sorts of things and, honestly, it really is the product of all sorts of things--busyness, exhaustion, lack of motivation, lack of inspiration. 

The more important question, really, is on what can I blame my return? What is the point of blogging? Despite numerous long absences* and whole periods of spotty-at-best posting, I have not yet been able to give up on blogging entirely. Why? 

Blogging is such a weird thing. It is talking to yourself and inviting others to listen in. It is shouting into a crowd and hoping to be heard. It is a community of isolated, solitary individuals, tapping away at keyboards together alone.  It is writing practice and social networking. It is the study of human nature, your own and everyone else's. 

It is, like most things, the sum of its parts and then some. And I have missed it. 

*This latest absence is by far the longest. We were sneaking up on a year at an alarming pace.